


broken pieces

by greywardenblue



Category: October Daye Series - Seanan McGuire
Genre: Gen, Gillian Daye Marks-centric, The Unkindest Tide Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-20 19:23:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21286907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greywardenblue/pseuds/greywardenblue
Summary: Gillian had accepted the haunting over death, but after the Duchy of Ships, she is closer to Firtha than ever. An unexpected quest at Toby and Tybalt's wedding proves this more than anything.
Comments: 11
Kudos: 38





	broken pieces

“Okay everyone, remember the plan,” Toby says while May and Stacy are busy fixing her dress from both sides. “The only Firstborn welcome at the party is the Luidaeg. If you see anyone else, scream and we’ll gang up on them.”

“Uh,” Quentin says from next to Gillian, but before he can continue, there is a voice from the doorway behind them.

“I have to say, that’s a little rude. And after I came all this way to wish you well.”

The room freezes, and everyone turns. The woman’s pirate attire could be almost comical on somebody else, but not on her, never on her. There’s something about the shark-belly skin and the oily waves of hair that makes Stacy let out a squeak, something that makes May and Jazz pull closer to Toby and watch for her reaction.

Gillian remembers being strangled and then being let go, and her hand closes around Quentin’s and she squeezes until her knuckles go white.

“I can just leave,” Captain Pete offers with an amused smile. “I would hate to do so when I haven’t even seen my sister yet, or my darling Dianda and her family, but I did not come here to ruin the occasion with my presence. I  _ had _ assumed my invitation got lost in the sea, the treacherous thing it can be…”

Toby recovers first. “We didn’t send one,” she says, and Gillian flinches. “I didn’t think you would come if we had. But you are welcome here,” Toby hurries to add, then gestures quickly to those who weren't there when Gillian’s one-century adventure became permanent. “This is my sister May, her girlfriend Jazz, and this is my best friend Stacy… I think you met everybody else present. Everyone, this is uh, my Aunt Pete.”

“Your Aunt?” Stacy whispers for clarification.

Pete smiles with too-sharp teeth. “I like Aunt Pete. That will do for the evening.”

“Where the fuck are--”

The door flies open and almost everyone flinches, except Pete who turns around calmly.

“Hello, sister. I thought you’d be here.”

The Luidaeg blinks in surprise, then smiles. Gillian thinks she can hear Stacy quietly whimpering behind Toby.

“Be here? Please. I’m giving the bride away.” The two of them hug, and the Luidaeg adds, “I had to fight Duke Torquill for the honor, but I won.”

“I like the Torquills,” Pete says. “They disappoint Eira more with every generation. It’s a talent.”

“Well, that’s good, because you’ll meet a bunch of them. Now excuse me, but I need the bride. The rest of you, get the fuck to your places, we’re already running late.”

“Toby,” Quentin says quickly as they are ushered out. “About the Firstborn thing - Acacia is outside with Luna and Walther’s aunt.”

Toby only has time to stare at him for a few moments and to whisper, “Well, fuck,” and then the Luidaeg is grabbing her arm and pulling her away.

“Who is Acacia? Is she cool?” Gillian asks as Quentin leads her in the other direction.

Quentin shrugs. “As far as Firstborns go. We’re not as close with her as with the Luidaeg, but we’re on… decent terms. She hasn’t technically tried to kill any of us, I think. Her daughter is the wife of your mom’s uncle on her stepfather’s side.”

“Duchess Torquill,” Gillian says after taking some time to sort through that sentence, quietly impressed with herself for being able to follow the complicated family tree. “The mother of Rayseline,” she adds with a flinch.

Quentin nods quietly.

Toby came to her before the wedding and explained what happened to the woman who had kidnapped her the first time. Toby insisted she was more stable now, and she was pardoned by the Queen, and she was Sylvester’s daughter, but if Gillian said so, Toby would tell her parents not to bring her. Gillian was tempted, so tempted to say it and she knew Toby would do as she asked, but she had heard enough about her strained relationship with her Uncle to be able to guess what that would mean.

Let her come, she said. It’s not like Gillian really remembered her.

When they ran into each other in the corridor earlier, Rayseline’s eyes widened in recognition, and she hurried away without looking back. Gillian didn’t know if that was better or worse than an apology.

“I feel a little sorry for Toby’s normal friends,” Quentin says as they take their places.

“She has normal friends?” Gillian asks.

“Well, it depends on your definition of normal. But Stacy and Mitch and Danny are normal compared to those of us who hang out with the Luidaeg every weekend, and even the ones who have actually met a Firstborn up close are rarely in one room with three at once. So that’s going to be fun. At least they are toning themselves down so far, which is kind of them.” In fact, it seems a little like even Quentin is nervous at the idea. Huh. “Also, I hate to break it to you, but having met two Firstborns on your first real Faerie adventure disqualifies you from being normal.” He looks around the room. “Aaand I don’t think we have a lot of Merrows here, other than Dianda and her sons who already survived their first meeting with Captain Pete, so we’re gonna be fine. Probably.”

Gillian looks around too, her eyes identifying Dean and Peter, and there’s Marcia and Dean’s parents with Poppy all in one cluster, and there’s the Prince who climbed on the rigging next to a woman who must be his sister, and Toby already introduced her to the High Monarchs earlier, which was only mildly terrifying. There is some commotion as Chelsea plops into a seat next to them, leaving her assigned one where she’d been sitting with her parents and the Torquills. It’s still a little strange to have her folklore teacher at her mother’s wedding to a literal cat.

“Is it true Toby is wearing a red dress?” Chelsea whispers.

Quentin frowns. “Way to ruin the surprise before the bride walks out, Chel.”

“She said there’s a 80% chance she’ll get blood on it anyway, so she might as well,” Gillian says, the words sounding foreign in her mouth. “The Luidaeg said the 80% is optimistic.” The Luidaeg cannot lie, not to Toby or Quentin or the others. She can use sarcasm if she’s careful, but Gillian doesn’t want to think too much about those words. She doesn’t think they were really joking.

Somebody hushes them, and they fall silent. The music starts, and as everyone turns back in their seats Gillian stares ahead at Tybalt, who looks more nervous than she’d ever seen him. She knows the exact moment her mother enters on the Luidaeg’s arm, because his face lights up like a Christmas carnival.

\--

Toby and Tybalt are glued to each other’s sides for the rest of the night. Gillian rolls her eyes a lot, but she has to admit they are sweet, even if Tybalt sounds like he’s constantly reciting Shakespeare sonnets and it’s cringey as hell.

“We’ll have to put our illusions on later so I can take pictures that I can actually show my Dad,” Gillian says. It’s a bitter reminder, but it still feels nice to be herself - and see everyone else be themselves, too. She had already seen so many different people at the Duchy, but everywhere she looks there is someone new, not just a new person but a new  _ race _ . She tries to subtly ask Toby or Quentin or Dean about all of them, and never get caught staring.

(Not that there aren’t people staring at her. There are more Roane now than in several centuries, and that’s exactly why they are curiosities. She had so many people come up with questions that she had to find her way out of answering.)

“I don’t know if your father will want pictures of this occasion,” Tybalt says.

Gillian frowns. “But I do, and I don’t want to worry about him finding a pictures where we’re a bunch of pointy-eared freaks.”

“We’ll take pictures later,” Toby promises, and she only flinches a little at Gillian’s harsh comment. She’d been getting used to things, making friends, but a few months still won’t cancel her entire life.

“There’s Ceridwen,” Tybalt says suddenly. “She hadn’t replied to my invitation, so I assumed she wasn’t coming.”

“Where?” Toby asks, trying to follow his gaze.

“The woman with the long wavy hair, next to your Aunt Pete. She is an old friend, from when I lived in Pines. I hadn’t seen her since…” Tybalt trails off, and Gillian is still searching for whoever he’s talking about in the crowd. “Since she moved back to Wales a century ago,” he finishes.

Gillian finds the woman with her eyes, and the wind is knocked out of her. She had never seen this woman before, not even in dreams, not even in pictures. And yet, even through a crowd of people, a part of her comes alive at the sight of her.

_ Sister, sister, sister _ , the waves and the seafoam whisper in the back of her mind, and she is glued to her spot, unable to move.

Aunt Pete laughs so loudly she can hear it over the crowd, and then she takes the woman’s shoulders and turns her around, and she sees-- she sees someone on the other side of the room and her hand flies to her mouth, and for a second she stands frozen, and then she is walking so fast she is almost flying.

Gillian turns her head to follow her path, and the Luidaeg is pushing through the crowd like they aren’t even there. They meet in the middle and cling to each other like they’re drowning, and Gillian can hear the sobbing of the woman all the way to where she’s standing. She can hear it in her heart, she can hear it in the waves. The Luidaeg cries quietly, but she cries, she cries in front of a room full of people, and Gillian knows that nobody in the world would be fool enough to say anything about it.

Gillian’s feet move on her own. It’s her feet, and it’s her body, and she’s in control of it most of the time, but not right now. It is somebody else who carries her through the room, shaking off her mother’s hand that reaches for her, and then she’s standing right next to them, a woman she’d never seen and yet knows so well sobbing into the Luidaeg’s shoulder.

She reaches out to touch her and the woman’s head snaps up, and their eyes meet, two pairs of eyes the exact same green. The woman’s eyes widen and she recoils, stumbling a step back.

“Ceri,” the Luidaeg says soothingly, “my love, my darling, it’s alright.”

Gillian’s hand falls, and now her mother is behind her rubbing her back, asking her what’s wrong. Ceridwen stares at Gillian without moving, and it’s only the Luidaeg who looks at her sadly and with a yearning, like she understands what happened.

“Mama,” Ceri forces out.

“Yes, darling?”

“I’ll go wash my face. I’ll be back.” She is lead away by a woman with wings, and Gillian stares after her. The Luidaeg’s face is dry when Gillian turns back to look at her, even though she was sobbing her heart out not a full minute ago. The perks of being -- a Firstborn? A shapeshifter? Older than civilizations? Gillian doesn’t ask.

“Forgive my daughter,” the sea witch says in a low tone. “She doesn’t mean to look at you like that, but you surprised her. Mothers shouldn’t play favourites, but sisters do.”

“I didn’t know she was your daughter,” Tybalt says. “I… I’d like to think I would have warned you both, if I had expected this. My apologies for the shock.”

“Mom,” Gillian says in a whisper. The pressure of Toby’s hands increases on her shoulder lightly to signal she is right there, but the Luidaeg moves closer at the same time too. Their eyes meet over Gillian’s head, but she doesn’t have energy to help them sort this out. “I think… I’m going to drink some water.”

“Okay, honey,” Toby says, rubbing her back. “Should I go with you?”

Gillian shakes her head and hurries out of the room. Once she’s in the hallway, she sinks down on the floor and breathes, and tries to figure out what the hell just happened. She listen, but the voice in the back of her mind is silent.

“Firtha?” she tries quietly, and her voice still feels too loud in the silence. There is no response.

The door opens as someone else steps out, and Gillian stands up quickly from the ground out of reflex. She might be the bride’s daughter, and Toby might not care much for reputation, but she still doesn’t want to be caught sitting on the ground with this many nobles around.

“Are you okay?” Chelsea asks, and Gillian’s nervousness slips away. She smiles.

“Yeah. I’m fine. Just… got a little confused back there.”

Chelsea nods and reaches out for her arm, and Gillian giggles a little as Chelsea starts leading her away. “Well, let’s go for a walk then! We’ve barely even explored this place.”

“Shouldn’t we take Quentin? He must know his way around.”

“But that would be too  _ easy _ , Gillian.”

They sneak around the hallways like thieves, giggling and hushing each other, and Gillian forgets about the waves for a little while. At least until they turn a corner and end up in a garden, running right into the Roane woman and her wife.

Their eyes meet, and Gillian can’t hear anything over her own heartbeat, but she can at least feel Chelsea squeezing her hand tight.

The woman smiles. “Hello there,” she says. “I… apologise for what happened inside. I just…” She glances at her wife, who squeezes her shoulder like Chelsea holds Gillian’s hand, then looks back at the girls. “I don’t meet a lot of selkies,” she says.

“I’m not a selkie,” Gillian says before she can think better of it, but she can hardly blame her. She cannot imagine what it must be for the original Roane, for those whom the others were their siblings and cousins and children, to suddenly have these strangers join their ranks.

“No, of course not. I’m sorry.” The Luidaeg’s daughter shakes her head, then stands up. “My name is Ceridwen,” she says. “This is my wife, Kama.”

“I know,” Gillian says. “This is my girlfriend, Chelsea.”

“Hi,” Chelsea says nervously.

Ceridwen nods. “May we talk?” she asks, and she’s only looking at Gillian.

Gillian thinks about that for a minute then nods back.

“Are you sure?” Chelsea asks.

“Yeah,” Gillian says, even though she isn’t. “Just… be close?”

Chelsea looks at her for a moment longer, then squeezes her hand and walks out with Kama back into the hallway.

“I hear you are the bride’s daughter,” Ceridwen says. “I haven’t heard much about her, other than what Tybalt wrote in the invitation. Aunt Pete tried to catch me up on things, but it was… a lot.”

Gillian smiles despite herself. “Yeah, it is. I’m… new to things as well. Sometimes when they talk about the things that happened before I joined, I can’t decide if they’re messing with me.” There is a short silence, then she asks, “Where have you been?”

Ceridwen looks at her in surprise. “I live across the ocean,” she says. “I have, for a century. I haven’t seen my mother in…” She trails off. “At least that long. Listen, I must ask…”

“I’m not her,” Gillian says before she can finish.

Ceridwen watches her, and her eyes are so green, Gillian feels like the water is pulling her in. “No, you’re not,” she says. “But you’re the only her that ever will be. I see fragments of my siblings and nephews and nieces worn by strangers, but you are the only Firtha that ever will be.” There is silence again, then she shakes her head. “But you are right. My question would not be fair to either of us.”

Gillian is silent, and she feels a surge of affection in her chest that she knows doesn’t belong to her. She did say to her mother that she’d be getting more of the people than they thought. But not even she knew the extent.

“I need to think,” she says, and Ceridwen nods.

“I hear we’ll all be here for a few days. Perhaps… we can talk more later.” She holds out her arm, and she only smiles when Gillian shakes her head and pulls away. “Shall we walk back to the party?”

Gillian nods. “Let’s.”

She would see Firtha later, when she’s asleep. They have a lot to talk about.


End file.
